Thursday, 4 August 2016


An unrest like music afire
lifts the mist,
stirring the silenced Soul
to speak, to call to the gold
upon the horizon,
that it may seek
the window of its wound.

Despair's blade dulls in the
hush of the half-light,
as an Angel's tears fall upon
the salt of bloodied ground,
that Earth may weep
no more for the fallen.

A child regards the Abode
of her deepest fears,
tracing the blear edge of the
Dark Moon drifting past
veils and starlight, loving Her
whose shadowed hues
they impute to malediction
and misfortune.

Under a searing Summer Sun,
the parched land rises
to skies suffused with hues
of a harvest it alone sees,
awaiting fluid footfalls across
arid heavens.

A trustful emplacement within
the darkest Dark
prepares to receive the Light.

A rite of Breath at Life's altar,
affirmation of its rhythm -
this is Hope,
and the Spirit's elevation
its consummation.

© 2016 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Bela Čikoš Sesija